I got an e-mail today that was a pip.

Generally I enjoy my e-mails about my web pages; I even don't mind when people write me to point out a typo or a bit of information I've misremembered. It's usually a "duh" moment.

Today I heard from someone who had read one of my nostalgia pages. The person was "offended" because I had misremembered a landmark and that landmark had special meaning to them in regards to their family.

Reading the first part of the letter, I was immediately apologetic. Some of these memories are 40 years old; as I say in one essay, they are like the chalk paintings in Mary Poppins which have blurred a little from the rain. I'm not surprised that there are mistakes--I can only say "I goofed" and correct them.

Had the message ended there, I would have sent an apology. However, at this point I'm considering sending a snarky response.

The rest of the letter went on to the effect of how dare I say what I said because of how wonderful this family was: one relative had donated a lot of money to a certain church and even had a road named after them; another member of the family was a "brilliant college graduate" who worked for years in Rhode Island state politics and who--golly gee whiz, Mr. Wizard!--had one of those coveted "low number" state license plates that certain idiot gits in Rhode Island seem to think are so damn important!!!! (Honest to God, they mentioned a car license plate as if it were something important!) And that I had really maligned this wonderful family by misrepresenting this particular landmark.

Oh, please. I suppose I should be scuffling my little feet in shame now that I offended one of the Big Name Families in Rhode Island and that I'm simply not worthy to live because my grandfathers didn't make expensive donations to the church and instead one worked six days a week digging ditches for the Providence Gas Company and the other in a foundry, and my dad wasn't a brilliant college graduate but was forced to quit school and go to work after eighth grade due to economic circumstances and supported his family by breaking his back 8-10 hours a day over a polishing machine.

Anyway, next time I talk to my mom I'll ask her if I have misremembered this particular landmark. If she doesn't remember, I'm sure one of my relatives, who worked across the street from the landmark in question, can tell me if I'm talking through my hat. If I am, I will gladly alter what I have written.

I guess when your dad isn't a "brilliant college graduate" you aren't immune to mistakes. ::snort::

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 7:29:00 PM

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